The Scuffle

As Chen Yang spoke those words, all sorts of reactions flashed through his mind about what the boy before him might do. Yet, confident that he had said nothing wrong and bolstered by his superior cultivation, he merely lowered his head slightly, putting on a humble demeanor. *If I don't break the rules, what can you possibly do?* When no reply came for a long while, his gaze quickly shifted to Li Zhouwei's face. His dark pupils drifted toward the narrow corners of his eyes, revealing a somber, calculating look. He neither bowed nor saluted, projecting an almost condescending aura. Yet that subtle peek met the eyes of the young Heir straight on. Chen Yang's heart skipped a beat, as though all the malice and arrogance festering inside him had been laid bare in an instant. *Not good,* he thought. In the blink of an eye, Li Zhouwei lunged forward. Chen Yang felt his throat tighten as a pair of hands shot upward along his neck like lightning, clamping hard onto his throat. "You!" Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine Li Zhouwei would erupt so violently. The boy came crashing into him like a pouncing tiger—heavy and ferocious. Thrown completely off balance, Chen Yang fell backward with a heavy thud. *Bang!* Chen Yang's head slammed brutally against the flagstones, sending stars dancing before his eyes. The impact was merciless; had he not possessed the fourth tier of Embryonic Breathing, it would have knocked him unconscious on the spot. A venomous fury flared straight up his throat. His hands clawed at the air as several spells flashed through his mind, barely suppressing his shock and rage. But before he could act, he realized Li Zhouwei was already straddling him, pinning down his chest and wrenching both of his arms wide to the sides, leaving him completely unable to form any hand seals. Choking for air and stripped of the posture needed to cast incantations, Chen Yang panicked. Yet he was no ordinary fledgling; his wits kicked in instantly, and he seized Li Zhouwei's wrists to pry them off. *His cultivation is far lower than mine! The moment I channel my magical power, I can overpower him in an instant!* The thought had barely formed when Li Zhouwei abruptly released his grip. Freeing his hands, Li Zhouwei snatched the inkstone off the desk and smashed it squarely across Chen Yang's forehead. A bloody, blackened mess splattered across Chen Yang's brow as dark ink bled across his skin, his eyebrows twitching in fury. "Damn you!" The brutal blow momentarily loosened his grip. Possessing the cultivation of the fourth tier of Embryonic Breathing, Chen Yang recovered after merely a second of dizziness. The contempt and wrath boiling in his chest finally broke loose. Grabbing Li Zhouwei's robes with both hands, he sought to haul him off. Chen Yang was no common child. With nearly a century of heritage, the Chen family boasted its fair share of swordplay and techniques. While they fell short of the Li family's direct lineage in Qi Refinement and Foundation Establishment, their methods at the Embryonic Breathing level were formidable. A burst of azure light already began to glow in his hands. *Clang!* Once again, Li Zhouwei defied all expectations. Amid the cold, ringing clash of iron, the low table was kicked aside, revealing that Li Zhouwei had already drawn a halberd hidden beneath it. The azure glow froze in Chen Yang's grasp. The halberd's gleaming, frost-chilled tip pressed dead against his throat. The biting chill of the metal sent every hair on his body standing on end, instantly extinguishing the burning hatred in his chest and forcing him into submission. *Damn it... who keeps a halberd under their desk?! It's not a concealed dagger! Does he expect an assassination every waking moment?!* Before he could dwell on it, a sharp prick bit into his throat. Chen Yang backed away slowly, step by step, staring into those dark-golden eyes that betrayed not a shred of emotion. The courtyard fell dead silent, save for the dragging scuffle of their boots against the flagstones. Without a single word and with an unsettling calm in his eyes, Li Zhouwei drove him into the corner. Only then did he utter his first sentence: "Do not look at me with those eyes." Chen Yang froze, then smoothed over his expression with practiced ease, quickly donning a mask of meekness. The cunning, the contempt, the calculating gaze—all of it vanished. Yet he felt Li Zhouwei's grip tightening on the shaft. The halberd lunged forward, thrusting hard against him. In sheer disbelief, Chen Yang screamed in his mind: *Is he mad?!* *Thwack!* The halberd sank deep into the wooden wall behind him. The shock finally shattered Chen Yang's composure. Sweat poured down his face, all strength drained from his legs, and he slumped weakly to his knees. Only then did he lower his head—only for his chin to be tilted upward by the boy before him. He was forced to look into those dark-golden eyes, watching the concentric rings within gently contract like dark bands drifting through molten gold, rising and sinking without pattern. Seeing the terror he desired reflected in Chen Yang's eyes, Li Zhouwei finally released his grip, letting Chen Yang collapse into a heap before him. Propping himself up with what little strength remained, Chen Yang vaguely noticed three figures standing quietly at the entrance to the courtyard. One wore dark-golden armor with broad shoulders; another was clad in fluttering white robes with a sword slung across his back. Neither said a word, watching in silence. Only an elderly man hurried forward, setting the overturned desk upright as he asked, "What happened here?" Blood mingled with ink dripped steadily from Li Zhouwei's forearm. The boy cupped his hands and replied, "Reporting, Lord Patriarch, it was merely child's play." Li Xuanxuan sighed and waved toward the courtyard gate, summoning the waiting white ape. In a low voice, he instructed, "Take him away and soothe him with the Mind-Calming Incantation. The child has had a fright; he will need to rest for a while." The white ape gathered Chen Yang into its arms and swiftly carried him out of the courtyard. Frowning at the mess on the ground, Li Xuanxuan cast a few casual spells, using his magical power to restore every object to its place before taking a seat. Once Li Xuanfeng sat down, Li Xijun brewed tea with a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "That Chen lad... is rather interesting," he murmured. Li Xuanfeng, who had been studying Li Zhouwei closely, remarked casually, "Quite ferocious." Li Xuanxuan remained silent, but Li Xijun showed no trace of concern. Smiling, he said, "More ferocious and cunning than cautious, relying on his talent with proud contempt, incapable of bowing his head. The only saving grace is his supreme talent—in this troubled era he can kill and carve out a name, yet sooner or later he will die of arrogance." As Li Xijun spoke, Li Xuanxuan nodded slightly. Sitting obediently beside them, Li Zhouwei blinked, seeming to understand the veiled advice, and took it to heart in silence. "Let us hope a few setbacks might mend his ways." Li Xuanfeng nudged his teacup and said in a low voice, "Such people cannot change. Just like Jianixi back then, brandishing his edge recklessly in all matters, unbeatable in a single clash—until the fateful moment arrived, ending in nothing but death." After lingering in thought for so long, Li Xuanxuan finally spoke, murmuring, "A boy like that Chen child can only be reined in by our family's Heir." With that single remark, Li Xuanxuan brushed aside their concerns. Smiling, he stroked Li Zhouwei's head and said softly, "In less than two years, he has already condensed the Chengming Wheel of the second tier of Embryonic Breathing." Li Xuanfeng had kept his gaze fixed on the boy. After a pause, he said, "I have spent these past days travelling between the Southern Border and the East Sea, keeping an eye out for many things. Let me explain them clearly to you." He paused, then continued in a gentle voice, "First is Mingyang. In the past, its lineages were scarce, surviving only across a few overseas islands. Now, due to the matters of the Eastern Fire, Mingyang Foundation Establishment cultivators have emerged both inland and overseas, gradually becoming known to the world. "This Foundation Establishment is most beneficial to one's descendants, but those who practice it often grow increasingly fierce in temperament—becoming either overly domineering or excessively stubborn under the influence of the Immortal Foundation." Li Xijun frowned slightly, thinking of Li Ximing upon the mountain. Li Xuanfeng continued, "Between Yin and Yang, 'Mingyang' corresponds to 'Jueyin'. Their lineages complement yet clash with each other, so we must pay heed. "To the northwest of the State of Wu, bordering the West Sea, lies a region known as Jizhong. There exists a State of Chen, also called the Land of Daughters, whose cultivators practice 'Jueyin'. They rarely venture out in these times, yet we must be on guard." As Li Xuanfeng advised them, Li Xijun nodded in silence. The elder then casually brought up a few recent events. Being sharp-witted, Li Xijun asked, "I wonder about that matter regarding Situ Chen of the Tangjin Gate..." Li Xuanfeng's expression did not waver as he denied it outright: "Has nothing to do with me." The white-robed youth nodded thoughtfully. Li Xuanfeng pulled Li Zhouwei closer and asked, "Wei'er, Mingyang embodies the domineering path of governing others, which is said to aid in cultivation. In the future, you must look after clan affairs more closely as well." "Zhouwei understands," the boy nodded. Li Xijun could no longer hold back and asked, "Why is it that... when Brother Ming practices Mingyang, his temperament differs so much from those descriptions?" Li Xijun laid out Li Ximing's circumstances from beginning to end. Li Xuanfeng stroked his beard and said softly, "In my eyes, Ximing was never cut out to practice Mingyang! Mingyang is a worldly path, suited to minds like Xicheng's and Chengliao's. He should have practiced something like the Twelve Qis or Yuzhen lineages. With his temperament misaligned with his Dao lineage, conflicting with his true nature at every turn, all the joy is stripped from it." "So that was why!" Li Xijun felt his hands go numb. Staring blankly, he set the jade pot down on the table, suddenly recalling that moonlit night when Li Ximing seemed to have sensed something and gently placed [Golden Yang Huangyuan] into his hands, offering to trade cultivation methods. A searing ache flared in the young man's chest. His voice dropped low and heavy: "How could we... how could we have understood? We only wanted to leave the best for him..." Listening nearby and seeing Li Xijun's anguish, a rare anger surfaced on Li Xuanxuan's face as he snapped, "Speak no more of blaming one another! There is no room for such talk!" Reading the reproach in his elder brother's gaze, Li Xuanfeng said softly, "I should not have brought it up. Our family's *Scripture of Minghua Huangyuan* is of exceedingly high grade; Ximing was never shortchanged. Even if he had chosen for himself, he would have picked the higher-grade technique for the sake of his Grand Dao." Li Xuanfeng did not know that Li Xijun and Li Ximing had once contemplated swapping techniques in their youth, but Li Xijun remembered it with agonizing clarity. Though his composure returned quickly to his face, he mourned bitterly in his heart: *One matter after another... I have truly wronged Brother Ming.* After speaking for only a short while, Li Xuanfeng did not linger. Rising to his feet, he retrieved his bow and addressed the two men: "I shall take my leave now, and return to visit the clan in a few years." Li Xijun and Li Xuanxuan walked him out together. Li Xuanxuan remained in relatively good spirits, unaware that beneath the calm facades of his grandnephew and younger brother raged a tempest of grief and remorse. *** Mount Doufu, the Song family. The Song family's territory lay south of Xunlin Plain and north of Helin Commandery. Neither particularly large nor small, it was an ancient clan with a long history. At present, the Song family's territory was somewhat disproportionate to their actual strength. Especially after the death of their last Foundation Establishment cultivator, a mere Qi Refinement clan had no business holding onto such lands. Yet the Song family had once produced a female cultivator who willingly humbled herself to become the concubine of an immortal sect disciple descending from Mount Qingchi. Later, that disciple became the Sect Master of Qingchi, and the Song woman benefited enough to break through to Foundation Establishment, causing the Song family's fortunes to surge overnight. Little did anyone anticipate that this disciple, Chi Wei, would later break through to the Violet Palace. The blessings that flowed from him were boundless; even though the Song woman was merely a concubine, her influence was enough to secure a century of prosperity for her clan. *What a pity their descendants proved so useless, falling to such a pathetic state!* Yuan Hudu stood quietly in the courtyard amidst the deafening clamor of gongs and drums. Looking far younger than Yuan Huyuan, his sunken eye sockets and sharper nose gave him a decidedly somber, sinister cast. In the courtyard below, guests bustled about with laughter and greetings, yet none dared approach to converse with him. Only the Patriarch of the Song family stood behind him with a fawning smile, uttering harmless pleasantries. Dressed in crimson robes, Yuan Fuyao stood smiling in the courtyard. With his childhood sweetheart waiting beneath her bridal veil in the rear chambers, he was riding high on fortune, sweeping both wealth and beauty into his grasp. His face was slightly flushed with visible pride. Yuan Hudu, however, narrowed his eyes and surveyed the courtyard, soon spotting an old man standing at the far edge in dark-golden armor, arms crossed, gazing coldly at the spectacle. Yuan Hudu did not probe with his spiritual sense, yet his instincts told him this man was extraordinary. Beckoning an attendant forward, he whispered, "Go find out which member of the Li family has white hair and gold armor." Yuan Hudu already had a faint guess about his identity; nine times out of ten, it was someone from the Li family. Yet he felt no fear, having anticipated this visit long ago. *What endurance. I have spent day after day wandering out in the open, and at last you've come!* Yuan Hudu knew that had he been in their position, he could never have stomached such an insult. The Li family was bound to pay a visit sooner or later, and he had been waiting for them. *A mere broken engagement—could they actually kill me over it? At most, they will shout a torrent of curses, and ideally come to blows, perhaps even injure me.* The worse relations grew between the two families, the clearer the message sent to the Chi family would be. Since his life was never in danger, Yuan Hudu was more than happy to play his part. *Just whoever it is... even if it's Li Qinghong... don't let it be that fiend...* When his subordinate returned and whispered a few words into his ear, Yuan Hudu's face darkened instantly. He muttered under his breath, "It really is him! [Golden Geng Astral String] Li Xuanfeng!" Yuan Hudu had never been groomed to be family head since youth, nor did he possess exceptional talent like Yuan Chengdun; reaching Foundation Establishment had consumed the better part of his life. How could he not be afraid? He possessed mediocre talent and had no gift for combat, relying on pills to force his breakthrough. Among clan cultivators, he ranked at best in the middle tiers—how could he be a match for Li Xuanfeng? Even if Li Qinghong had come, she could likely claim his life within a hundred exchanges. Inhaling deeply, Yuan Hudu looked closely, only to discover that those intimidating, stern eyes were already fixed upon him. *Damn it!* Yuan Hudu forced a stiff, strained smile, his hand hidden inside his sleeve clutching the fabric tightly. He had long heard that this ruthless man acknowledged no restraints, and fear began to gnaw at his heart. At last, he watched the armored man step forward, advancing through the crowded, laughing throng. The crowd parted instinctively, opening a small path for him to walk unhindered. To Yuan Hudu's ears, all sound faded until only the cold thud of those dark-golden boots against the ground remained. Forcing down the urge to flee, he stood his ground, feigning composure. Li Xuanfeng walked straight up to him, stopping so close that Yuan Hudu could clearly see the engraved patterns upon the dark-golden spiritual armor. Only then did the man tilt his head slightly, asking in an even, tranquil voice: "Yuan Hudu?" The cold voice rang out with chilling clarity amidst the clamor, sending cold sweat pouring down his spine.